Petite Bijou
by XFairy13
Summary: Two lonely souls that have a chance encounter, but fate turns out to be stranger than fiction. What is it that draws these two together, and for what purpose does their unlikely friendship really serve? Can they survive their encounter, or will they be chased from one world to the next? And just what turn will their relationship ultimately take? How far will it go? OC and Phantom*
1. Uncovered

Chapter. I Uncovered

I had read many books in my life. I had a part time job at a library in my small town, as well as being in the school 'book club'. It was a know fact that I had mastered the art of completing summer reading assignments in single weekends, and considered the Dewy Decimal system my second language. That language in truth being French, and my first English.

However despite devouring many classic and contemporary works, there never did seem, to be a shortage of great books. My favorites being that of the romance and fiction genre. However I did enjoy a classic mystery piece once in awhile. Being on the outskirts of just about every social circle in high school, books had always been where I escaped to.

In the stories I read, I could escape reality and my social awkwardness. In moments of indecision, the characters of these books always offered great advice. I could pretend I was in the shoes of the hero or heroine and travel to distant lands and experience the thrill of adventures. My mundane life, consisted either of school and school work, or working part time at my uncle's library. My preferred choice was obvious.

I couldn't imagine a life without reading. Where would I have been, without the solace I found in these alternate realities? The growing pains I felt as I transitioned from child to teenager, were that more painful without any friends to talk to. Not to say that I hadn't ever before had a friend.

I was quite young then, perhaps five or six when I met her. Back then she was probably around the age that I am now—seventeen. A babysitter my father hired, as he often stayed away on business trips. I so became accustomed to his absence even at such a young age. This woman, Liana, then became more of a big sister figure to me.

To this day I attribute my love of literature to her. All those cold winter nights we spent together huddling by the fire. All the hot summer evenings, reading stories by candle light. She always had something interesting to read to me, and spared me from the cliché filled fairy tales. Though not to say I hadn't enjoyed those as well.

Though.. there was this one story, above all that really captured my interest. I only remember few details clearly.. Perhaps because it was the last storybook she had begun to read to me. I couldn't read very well as I was still so young, but I remember the volume was bound in dark leather and well worn. It smelled like dust and the pages had yellowed with age. The font was quite small and hard to tell the letters apart from on another. My eyes swam across the pages trying to make sense of it.

I remember her. Liana, smiling down at me, and reading bits of it to me in a low hushed voice. Something about an Angel and a Mask. There had been a Opera too, but what of it? The years had made the fragments foggy in my mind. I never did ask her the title of the story. So each day going to work at my uncle's library I wondered if I'd ever come across the story again. I was hopeful. But realized how unrealistic it was, considering there were probably many thousands of books that had Angels and Operas.

"Adelia!" The familiar trill came from down the corridor, making me bolt awake.

"Ah! Del-iaa~" The voice sang, softer this time as it neared. Aunt Violet.

"Yes madam." I groaned into my pillow.

"It's quarter past six. Charles and I are opening up shop." Came the voice.

The door opened swung open enough for Violet to pop her head in.

"Good morning." She smiled.

"Good morning, Madame." I nodded, returning her kind tone.

"Do you mind helping your uncle, move some books after school today?"

"Of course." I yawned stretching my arms. "Are they donations?"

"Yes, a bit of spring cleaning you could say." She winked, gently closing the door behind her.

It was the third of March, 1963- my fourth and final year of High School was well underway. Needless to say High school wasn't really my cup of tea. I went to a' good' school, got 'good' grades, and was considered a 'good girl'. According to my uncle there was nothing for me to complain about. So I didn't—outwardly. Though secretly I longed for something more, what that something was, I hadn't a clue.

I had moved many years ago now, perhaps now seven, to this area of Brighton England. Year round it was absolutely breathtaking—painting worthy really. I felt very lucky living so close to the ocean, and wandered down to the public landing to read.

Other than the absence of my long ago friend Liana, my life was roughly the same.

My father was gone more often than not, and I was left alone. My uncle, Charley was a quiet and reserved man, he and his wife Violet had ran the library for over fifteen years. I was grateful to them for taking me in, though kept my distance. I feared getting attached to them, only to have to leave again someday. It was silly, but the thought really bothered me somehow.

Taking the long way home from school, I wandered through the heart of my small town. It was a lovely spring afternoon and the area was bustling, full of both locals and tourists. Year round our area was home to beautiful tourist attractions and sights both the locals and those from far away both flocked to see.

Though I no more than nodded or politely smiled as I made my way through the crowded streets. It was somehow nice feeling to be out and around people, though I didn't communicate closely with any of them. It was as if finally, the winter clouds had parted, and the sun was finally shining the first rays of spring's light.

I couldn't help but feel light hearted as I headed into a second hand book shop. It smelled of ink and freshly made paper, and I breathed in happily upon entering. The old man behind the counter peered over his magazine, and gave me a slight nod. I wandered around the tall shelves, tracing my fingertips along the sides of the tall wooden beams between each.

The old wooden floor creaked noisily in the otherwise quiet store as I walked to the back section. Here there stood a small black shelve crowded with old worn of the titles had long since worn off the bindings and covers of the books, making them unintelligible. Nameless, unless, you opened them up to the title page—which made them even more mysterious.

My hand wandered over to the smaller of the books, stuck in the middle. I pulled it out slowly, and turned it over in my hands. The leather cover was worn, but the embellishments on it promised that it had once indeed been beautiful. Small engraved flowers encircled the binding.

The faded price sticker on the right hand corner read 3€. I walked up to the counter where the man again peered over his magazine at me. He gave a slight smile as he took the book from me.

"Hmm this is quite an old one.." He studied it, seeming to look for the title.

"Uh yeah, how old does it look to you sir?"

"Three Francs huh? I'd say it is quite old indeed. Perhaps..early 20th century.."

"What an interesting find." I dug around in my change purse for money. "Sir, how much?"

"Let's go with ah..two pounds. How about that ma'am?"

"Fair enough sir." I smiled handing him my money and clutching my new found treasure.

"You have a nice day. Thank you, kindly." He smiled before resuming his reading.

I could hardly wait to go back to the house, lock myself in my room and start reading. I then realized I had overlooked something. I was supposed to be back at the library helping Charley. I had completely forgotten, and looking at my watch I was already twenty minutes late. As stated before Charley could be persnickety to say the least. I already felt like burden by having them take me in since my father stayed away due to work...s

Later that night I trudged up the steps to my loft. My arms both ached and my feet felt as heavy as lead, but I was happy. I was able to help my uncle and aunt, even if only a little bit. It made me happy that even though Charley was a bit hard to approach he at least acknowledged, whereas my father didn't. Even if it was just him letting me help him load heavy boxes of books into his truck.

I rubbed my shoulder with a sigh I really did feel odd somehow. Like I was forgetting something.


	2. The Window

I brushed off the feeling and went to lay down on my pillow, only to feel the hard cool surface of a book against my head. It was the little old black book that I had bought earlier today. I traced my fingers over the little engraved flowers on the cover, wondering how old exactly it could be. I flipped the cover open and began studying the first few yellowed pages.

Letting my tired eyes settle over the old text, I smiled. What an odd book. Flipping to the last page of the book, _Le Fantôme de l'Opéra Leroux Avril, 10 1910._ I thought back to my childhood. My mother had been a French woman, and my father's side of the family all came from England. Since my mother had died when I was very young, and my father did not speak the language- I never really had a chance to speak the language much.

I was only able to do that with my studies in school.. I knew simple phrases and could figure out words if they were put in proper context. Truthfully I was a better French reader than speaker. "Le Fantome of the opera.." I whispered slowly. The words still felt heavy and awkward on my tongue. I sat there for a moment_ What..a.. phantom? A ghost? _I couldn't help but feel a bit stupid. I really should study harder at my lessons. "So." I began aloud "A story about ghosts?" I frowned at the frayed binding, and began reading.

The story was quite a peculiar one. Set in Paris in the year 1890. My eyes floated over the text as I quickly read on. When I next glanced at the clock it was five minutes till midnight. I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand, they felt heavy. I had just gotten to the part of the story where Christine Daae was about to sing at the Gala.

I wanted to read on, finding the story fascinating, yet my mind was too tired to continue. Still. There was in fact something very odd about this story. Like I had read it before. I placed the book on my nightstand, and turned over to go to sleep. Sleep, as tired as I was, should have come did not. My mind turned over the story I had read, creating images of the characters within it. I was imagining how beautiful Christine Daae's voice must sound when I finally drifted off into sleep.

That night's sleep was long and dreamless, I awoke at 9:22am the next morning. I could hear the raindrops pattering against the windowpane as I slowly opened my eyes. Slowly I sat up, and wandered over to my window. The scenery of the town looked very drab against the overcast sky. I could see a few people scurrying about with umbrellas, and few cars driving slowly into the large grey puddles below.

Today was Saturday, finally. I was happy to not have to trudge to school in this awful weather. Though my future was uncertain, I was content knowing that within a few months I would no longer have to attend High School. Then finally, I could pursue what I wanted to do. But.._what_ did I want to do? This was a question I asked myself everyday. And yet, the answer seemed further from me each day. I felt my real life, outside of my fantasies—was truly depressing. And I could feel tension in the air, a feeling like this could only mean one thing. My father would be coming home soon. His arrival promised only one thing, an argument.

I walked over to my small dresser and opened the top drawer. I hid my journal underneath my undergarments. Not that I was paranoid that someone would come in my room looking for such a thing. I hid it here, because this was the only place I had. The journal itself had been a present for my birthday last year from Aunt Violet. It was a beautiful little green book with white lined pages. I opened it up, I really hadn't written in it much since I had gotten it. I took up a pen and sat on the bed. Today was _March 15__th__ 1963. I began writing –_

_From this day on, I shall keep up with this diary. I'm not sure exactly what or how I should write in this, but I hope that, somehow, I will be able to have some good memories to fill it with. -Adelia D'artagne_

Satisfied with my partial effort, I set it aside on my nightstand. Next to it, sat the little black book. "The Phantom of the Opera." I said aloud, and picked it up once more. Turning to where I left off, I read on.

Several hours must have passed for I hadn't even heard the car engine in the driveway, or the loud knocking at the door. I was so totally absorbed within the great fantasy of the story that I hadn't a clue what the time could be. In the book, Christine Daae, had a special tutor, the mysterious angel of music. A voice that only she could here. As crazy as that may sound to other people, I envied her. How I wished that I could have my own angel too.

It's now 12:15pm, my father is now home for a 'visit', as he calls it. Just like I knew he would, I can always tell when he'll be home, because it always rains like this. I sighed putting the book down on my bed with a sigh. I was already half through the book when I stopped reading. And I hadn't even bothered to get dressed yet. I walked to my dresser to find something to wear. A grey sweater and a blue cotton skirt, both warm enough garments. I pulled the sweater over my head and buttoned up the skirt. I rummaged through my sock drawer trying to find a match of socks, giving up I decided on a pair of stockings.

I walked carefully down the hallway as not to be detected, I wanted to savor my last few minutes of solitude. My father would surely be someplace down stairs, tapping his pocket watch, thinking I had been asleep all this time. Ha! As if I could sleep, knowing he'd be here. I closed the bathroom door behind me gently , and faced myself in the mirror. My skin was quite pale looking and my unruly hair had fallen out of the braid I had put it in last night.

I turned on the facet, letting the water run cold. I cupped the icy water in my hands and splashed my face a few times. It was refreshing and made a chill go through me. Like the icy water against my face, a thought abruptly entered my mind. That story—The Phantom of the Opera. It wasn't as if I had read it before. I had, in fact read it before! Well..it had been the last story Liana read to me. So that was that mysterious story from all those years before! Why had it taken me so long to figure it out?

I smiled foolishly, happy that I had finally been able to find it after all this time. What were the chances of that happening? I took up the brush and began combing through my hair absentmindedly. I wanted to believe that however far away Liana was from me, somehow she had sent the story to me. That I was meant to find it again someday. It made me wonder where she was currently, and if I'd ever get to see her again. It had been so long since I'd had a friend.

Once combed, I fastened my auburn hair into a lose braid which hung over my right shoulder. I opened the bathroom door, but before stepping into the hallway, glanced back into the bathroom mirror. Perhaps hoping to see my own angel there staring back at me, but it was simply my own reflection. A foolish hope I know. And I chuckled at myself quietly in the darkened corridor before stepping quietly down the stairs .

I entered the kitchen, to the scene of my expectant father leaning against the counter, with his arms folded. Uncle charles was seated at the small round table with Aunt Violet, who was commenting on the news paper her husband was reading. My father was looking out the kitchen window silently, his eye brows furrowing.

Aunt violet looked up at me first and smiled.

"Hello dear" She smiled earnestly.

"We thought you were going to sleep all day long! Where have you been?"

I smiled. "Oh I've just been cleaning my room, madame.. I woke up around nine actually."

"Getting better marks this semester, Adelia? " My father asked without looking away from the window.

_Not even, a 'Hello' these days father? _I thought. Guess he had tired of the formalities all these years.

"Well..I am getting all A's in French and poetry this year.." I began quietly.

"What of Math? Physics? Are you taking Finance yet?" His tone was sharp.

"They don't offer Finance at my school." I mumbled feeling small.

"What sort of a school doesn't offer classes on Finance?" He scoffed, turning to me.

"Well I suppose it's because it's become a Freshmen college course."

" _Poetry_, really? I'd love to read some of your poetry Adelia." Aunt Violet commented lightly.

"Poetry? Really Adelia, you should be focusing more on real subjects. Something more, useful."

He began pacing in front of the window. "I wouldn't have left you here if I had known, you were going to act foolish with your studies."

Aunt Violet made a sound as if she were to say something, but uncle Charles got up suddenly.

"Violet, I think we should let them talk. The girl hasn't seen her father in nearly five months."

Charles shot her a knowing glance, before getting up from the table and exiting the room. Aunt violet glanced worriedly over her shoulder at me before following him out.

"Now." He began again sitting in down at the table rubbing his mustache before beginning again. "

" Now, I think it'd be best if you'd actually spent your last year in high school doing something productive."

I stood with my arms behind my back, feeling as if I was tied in place. I looked at him, but never into his eyes. I couldn't bare to see the disappointment, the reproachfulness that they held within his gaze.

"Don't you agree?" He snapped, after I did not answer.

"Yes father. Of course you're right." I desperately wanted to get as far away from him and that moment as possible.

"Since you can't seem to do it yourself. I'm will be making the necessary arrangements." He paused a moment to look me over.

" I suggest you start having a change of attitude towards your studies. Remember _your_ priorities Adelia." Then he sighed, as if I had exhausted him.

"That is all. You may return to your room now."Motioning for me to leave with his hand.

I silently turned away. My eyes burned with tears. I was sure this couldn't be how all father's regarded their daughters. Never an embrace, never a smile from him. I could do everything he asked, and he'd still find fault in it. I was sure of it. I was not created in his standard of perfection. And I knew I never would be. He was impossible.

As I closed the door to my room, I let myself slide down onto the floor and lay there. Listening to the muffled voices below. "Remember your Priorities, Adelia." I mumbled to myself. _My priories?_ What exactly where my priorities. I had always felt my Father's control over me, but now it seemed as if I was in a cage and he had finally sealed the door behind me. Things shouldn't be this way. And yet ..my heart could not imagine a different relationship with my father.

I wiped the tears from my eyes as I walked over to my bed. I let myself sink down into the mattress. If I was such a failure..if I was so foolish, why did he care? It's not as if he really cares at all anyway! I was too upset at the moment to think that he might have some motive for coming here. After the last time, and the last fight we had—I half expected he'd not come back for a year or so.. So. What exactly did he want from me?


	3. Down PartI

**Thank you so much for the review, Ashley L ! This is my first time posting on FanFiction so bare with me please! Your kind words are very helpful, I'll do my best!-XFairy13 - **

I waited until I heard the heavy footsteps on the front porch. The sound of the car engine was loud to me, even in my room upstairs. It was exactly three thirty when my Father drove away in his car. I hadn't an idea where he was going, but already dreaded his return. As I sat up in my bed my head began to hurt, and the brightness of the sky outside didn't help. I snuck downstairs for a glass of water. I wouldn't want to have to try and slip past my father again, when he came back.

I knew how it'd all go already. Father would come back from wherever he had gone, Charley would be arriving home after closing up the Library. Violet who had probably gone to the market, or to visit her sister Maria would arrive shortly after. We'd play the facade of a normal family dinner, from which I'd excuse myself from like always. I couldn't bare to sit through the strained conversations at the dinner table. Maybe, I'd just pretend I was sick and head to bed early, now sleep suddenly seemed like a good idea to me. I hadn't realized until now but I was quite exhausted.

I grabbed a mug from the top cabinet, and turned on the faucet letting it run cold. The cool water was delicious, and made me think of the cool ocean's waves. It had been a long while since I'd been down to the docks to read. Usually this was a particular summer habit of mine—however I would allow me to get out of the house while my Father was home. The rain against the windows kept time with the sound of the ticking clock, resonating in the silent house. It was a nice sound.

In less then four months my High School career would be coming to an end. I was funny but, school had been the only thing I'd really known in my life..so what happened afterwards? There was a really nice community college down town, and of course a number of great schools in the bigger neighboring cities. Still.. I wasn't sure. I had all this time by myself, but never really had thought for myself, and my future. _Remember your priorities, Adelia. _My father's scornful tone echoed in my mind.

In my reflective state, I hadn't heard the footsteps again on the porch, until the sound of a key and and door handle being turned snapped me back into reality. I quickly tip toed down the hall and back up the stairs to my hiding place in my room. I knew it was only Charley or Violet, but I couldn't stand the thought of facing them..not now. I could picture Violet's worried brown eyes scanning my face, and Charley's grunts of disapproval. Maybe my father _was _right?

As if under the spell of the rhythmical rain, I let myself fall asleep with the little black book underneath my pillow. There came a gentle knocking at my door, and a soothing voice that accompanied it. "Adelia..are you awake my dear?"

I edged to the end of the bed and got up. I opened the door to see Violet her kind eyes looked saddened as she gave me a weak smile. " It's only for one week dear.." Her voice was hushed.

"I know.." I tried to smile but could only do so halfway. Violet only frowned at this.

"This must be hard for you..It must have been all these years." She handed me a bowl of stew.

"I made one of your favorites tonight. Now, eat before it gets cold." She smiled then.

" Thank you." The bowl was warm in my hands and gave me a comforting feeling.

" Don't stay up all night, alright? We'll be taking a trip to the next town over."

I nodded, suddenly feeling at ease for the first time since my Father's arrival. It was hard not to smile at Violet's lighthearted manner. Her voice was always soothing and gentle, and her eyes caring. I could always be totally honest with her, even if I didn't outwardly say so. She always truly knew my heart.

"It'll be just you and I." She smiled putting a finger to her lips to suggest the secrecy.

" It's been awhile since you and I went out Violet."

"I'm happy to see you smile Adelia. We'll finally have some time together."

I was happy. I might live with her and Charley, but I didn't feel as if I really had a lot of time just one on one with Violet herself. Ever since I had come to live with Violet and Charley, I had found I always gravitated towards her. In my mind, I liked to imagine that perhaps my own mother had been like her.

"Then we'll head out, just after 7:30—after your father leaves." She gave me a playful wink.

"I'll be ready, thank you madam."

I waited until footsteps faded down the hall before closing my bedroom door again. The stew was delicious and I hadn't realized how hungry I'd been until now. Once finished with eating, I took up the Phantom of The Opera once more. I was nearly finished now, and only twenty pages remained in the book. I felt butterflies in my stomach and my palms sweated as I flipped over the cover. Strange. Was I coming down with a fever? Perhaps it was just the strange weather.

I began reading again, from where I had previously left off. But the feeling grew stronger. Now I knew what it was. I was nervous? But not because of my father or anything..it was the story itself. The inevitable ending.. a sad and strange fate of the man named Erik, the Opera Ghost. The Angel of Music who turned out to be a man of flesh and blood. Who suffered from a strange disfigurement, and hid his face behind a peculiar shaped mask. The miserable being who hid away in the cellars of the Opera. As crazy as he was a genius. It was clear to me, as soon as his character was introduced, what his fate would be.

And yet. I believe that despite all this Christine Daae did truly love the Phantom. Yet, she had to be true to her heart, and chose to be with Raul. Love, was a strange thing to me. There were so many layers, different levels of love that we human beings can experience. And so, I believed that if all along the Phantom had but one friend in his dark world, he wouldn't have such a tortured soul.

I closed the book. Finished. My heart ached, and I felt something shift in me. Though it was such a inexplicable feeling. Deep inside, I wished that somehow, someday the Phantom found peace. It was just a fiction novel, why should I be so bothered by it? I set the book down on my bedside table. The nagging feeling didn't leave my mind as I lay in my bed trying to sleep. The rain had finally stopped and now, the moon shone brightly through my window. I hid my head under my pillow to escape the light.

The next morning I awoke abruptly. I had, had a curious dream the night before. In my dream I was walking down a long dimly lit hallway. Somehow I knew it was leading me into the cellars of the Opera. Cobwebs and the glinting eyes of curious creatures adorned the sides of the tunnel. The air was damp and cool, though it was hard to tell where I was stepping—I was unafraid. I could see a light ahead in the darkness, and peered through the threshold.

I was met with a winding staircase that led downward still. I left myself drop to the first step, when a figure below me caught my eye. I could only make out the human shape, and nothing else. Though the lighting was growing darker as I continued down, I knew that the other figure had caught sight of me. The figure stood in place and seemed to be regarding me somewhat. I was just about to open my mouth to speak, when my alarm clock went off shattering the dream.

My mouth was dry and my legs a bit shaky. It was all so real, the smell of the damp air was still in my nose when I got up from my bed. I went into the bathroom to splash some water on my face, to wake me up further. "What a strange, strange dream." I murmured into flannel as I patted my face dry. I looked into the mirror happy to see that the circles under my eyes had faded a bit.

Today was sure to be a good day. I'd be going with Violet on a day trip. Truthfully I felt like she and I were quite alike. We were both quite reserved people, but had very active imaginations. Not to mention we both shared our senses of empathy. I had yearned for a long time to be able to get closer to her. I understood that work at the library and caring for her sister Maria took up much of her time. I was happy though, with any time that I did get with her.

I had washed my hair the night before, so all that was left to do was hop into the bath quickly. I loved bath time and wish I could have stayed in the bathtub longer, but it was nearly seven! Once I finished washing I quickly got out of the tub and dried. It was an unusually warm day, considering it was still early Spring.

I decided to wear one of my favorite skirts, a simple burgundy color with a white top and grey cardigan. I brushed my teeth and hair with haste, and decided to put my hair into a simply ponytail. Once in my room I fetched my messenger bag and filled it with a few items for the trip. A notebook, a few pens, some hair clips and of course—the little black book.

I hopped down the stairs feeling a sense of excitement swell inside me. I was eager to get out into the sunshine. Violet was standing by the front door and began chuckling when she saw me. I couldn't contain the silly grin that spread across my face.

"Goodness child. You're ever so eager to go do errands."

She smiled straightening out the hem of my skirt. Violet had on a light blue sundress with a shawl over her shoulders. She smiled taking up her sunhat from the rack by the door. It had a wide rounded brim and complimented her outfit nicely.

"Shall we?" She smiled over her shoulder at me.

"We shall, let's head out." I replied still grinning.


End file.
